


tell me we'll never get used to it

by unfinishedidea



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Mutual Pining, ten year transatlantic love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfinishedidea/pseuds/unfinishedidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Burnie:</strong> But the discussion Gavin and I would have, Ben, was that we had so many coincidences with one another that it got to the point where it seemed like we were fabricating reality on the fly.<br/><strong>Ben:</strong> I mean, I think with you and Gavin, here's what I've determined—<br/><strong>Burnie:</strong> Go ahead.<br/><strong>Ben:</strong> —is that you're from America, he's from England, you two came together when he was like fourteen, it's like fate. It's like the universe bringing the two of you together. In a love story.<br/><strong>Burnie:</strong> Underage guys from overseas. That's the dream of the internet.</p><p>— RT Podcast #229</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me we'll never get used to it

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY FINISHED THIS GODFORSAKEN STORY. (I started writing it over a year ago. I got it betaed by multiple people nine months ago. FMFL.) This is a fictional story about real life personas. I fudged some canon details for my own diabolical purposes; think of it as mildly AU. Burnie is divorced in this universe, but no details are given about it. Also, a lot of the timeline IS canon, so, you know, make of that what you will. (Many of the timeline details were taken from [Burnie and Gavin's Game Time](http://anonym.to/?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBSsBhlALwA), which is life-ruining to watch/listen to.)
> 
> This is the longest story I have ever written by a lot. Don’t look at me, I don’t even know. 
> 
> I have no idea how Burnvin became my trash OTP in this fandom, but here we are. This story would not have been written without [Jai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes), who is a horrible enabler, and who listened to me ramble endlessly on about how many feelings I have about this pairing in every iteration. I blame everything on her. Profuse thanks also to [lynnmonster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnmonster), for enduring all my weird fandoms throughout the years and continuing to beta for me in spite of it, and to [bathsweaver](http://bathsweaver.tumblr.com), who I somehow convinced to beta this despite her not knowing the fandom either.
> 
> Title from “Scheherazade” by Richard Siken, because I’m a pretentious fuck. (The working title was “hahahaha what have I done.”)

Message Received | **GavinoFree**  
---|---  
2006/05/17 | Rep | ★★★★★  
6:02 AM | Gamerscore | 15119 G  
Expires in 29 days | Zone | Recreation  
Reply | Message Text  
View Profile | hey ive got a few weeks off would it be  
cool if i came to visit the office? i promise  
i wont steal anything   
Delete  
Block Communications  
  
__

Message Received | **BurnieBurns**  
---|---  
2006/18/05 | Rep | ★★★★★  
17:49 | Gamerscore | 28476 G  
Expires in 29 days | Zone | Recreation  
Reply | Message Text  
View Profile | Aren’t you supposed to be studying for  
finals or something? Yeah, sure, I’ll facilitate  
your delinquency. Just book your flight for  
after the 29th and email me your info  
burnie@redvsblue.com  
Delete  
Block Communications  
  
“Hey Geoff, do you think you can pick Gavin up from the airport Wednesday? I’ve got that thing in the morning.” Geoff stares at Burnie, coffee mug halfway up to his open mouth. He closes it, and sets the coffee aside, raising an eyebrow. 

“I would just like to reiterate that I think this is a terrible idea. He’s going to wreak havoc on the office.” 

Burnie makes a face at Geoff. “He is not, don’t be dramatic. You’re the one who invited him to your wedding, so if we’re going to call the kettle black—” 

“It was a last minute invitation sent while under the influence,” Geoff says easily. “We all make mistakes.” 

“What mistakes now?” Jason asks, peering around the doorframe.

“Burnie’s British twink is coming for a visit,” Geoff says.

Burnie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t call him my British twink.”

“Oh, Jailbait?” Jason says.

“Please don’t call him that, either.”

“You know, I may have invited him to my wedding, but _you’re_ the one that met up with him in London to go on some weird date thing.”

“That wasn’t a—” Burnie waves his hands around. “Okay, look, whatever; we’re getting away from the point.” 

Geoff gives a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, christ, I’ll go pick up your British boytoy from the airport—”

Burnie closes his eyes. “He’s not my—you know what, I’m not even going to engage. You’re all immature children. I have to run.” Burnie walks out of the kitchen, then peeks his head back in and says, so quickly the words jumble together a little, “Oh, also, I talked to Griffon, and she said that Gavin could stay with you guys while he’s here, so, awesome and thanks, I gotta head out—” 

“ _Michael Justin Burns_ , you—hey, asshole, come back here!” 

 

“You do realize he’s going to be like a cat that you fed and now won’t leave,” Gus says, when Burnie mentions it to him later. 

“You know, I don’t know why I thought you’d be supportive of this.” 

Gus gives him a look. “Yeah, I don’t know why you thought that either.” 

“You’re all a bunch of killjoys. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Gus stares at him, disbelieving. “Really, Burnie? Really? Have you no sense of dramatic irony? This is like the start of a terrible sitcom. He could break everything,” Gus says, ticking off each point on a finger. “He could leak all our confidential projects. He could set fire to the office. He could—” 

“Oh, please, it’s just for a week. And Griffon will keep an eye on him at least.”

“Which you are going to owe me one very huge favor for, asshole!” Geoff calls from the kitchen. 

 

Burnie doesn’t end up seeing that much of Gavin during his brief stay in Austin, aside from Gavin almost literally running into him by the front door. “Whoa,” Burnie says, and puts a steadying hand on Gavin’s shoulder. 

Gavin flushes and stammers out a, “Sorry,” and Burnie finds it charming, that he still seems a little starstruck in person, despite him not having a problem calling him an “arse-faced wanker” when they play Halo. 

Burnie gives him a mock stern look. “You haven’t stolen any of our shit or sold any of our secrets, have you? Gus would kill me.”

“Um, no, I swear—”

“Gav, I’m just giving you a hard time. Come on, let’s go find Geoff.”

 

> _From: gavinfree@googlemail.com_  
>  _To: burnie@redvsblue.com_  
>  _Date: June 4, 2007_  
>  _Subject: summer_  
> 
> 
> _Hey Burnie,_
> 
> _I noticed last time that it looked like you guys could really use some help, and as it turns out, I’ve got a free summer. Gus said that I made a passable minion. What do you think?_

 

Gus stares at Gavin for a moment after opening the front door, then shakes his head. “Hey Gavino, welcome back. There’s Big Red in the fridge if you want it.”

“Top, thanks Gus,” Gavin says, bounding for the kitchen. 

Burnie tries to slink past Gus, but Gus grabs his arm and hisses, “You sneaky son of a bitch. I was gone for _one week_.”

“I’d just like to point out that you said, and I quote, ‘Goddamnit, I fucking hate setting up for cons, I wish we had someone who would fly out and do all that shit for us.’ Surprise! I thought you’d appreciate my thoughtfulness.” 

Gus narrows his eyes at him.

“Plus we can use Gavin to pilot an internship program. Free labor. I know how much you love that.” 

“I know you’re using your wiles on me right now. I see right through you, Burns.” 

“Come on, you thought he was useful last time. And I’m just going to say it again: free labor.” 

“You are so full of shit,” Gus says, but doesn’t object. Burnie’ll take it as a win. 

 

“So, how’s minioning for Gus been going?” Burnie asks, watching Gavin drag boxes down the hallway. 

“Bloody wanks off to bossing me around, I swear,” Gavin mutters, and Burnie laughs.

“Well, you know, it is what you signed up for.” 

Gavin flushes. “I’m not—I don’t mean to seem ungrateful.” 

“Oh, stop, you should know by now I’m just giving you shit.” 

Gavin smiles at him, oddly tentative, and says, “Yeah.”

Burnie clears his throat and says, “You do look like you could use a break. Wanna annoy Gus?” 

They end up piling all the boxes outside of Gus’s office, creating a makeshift barricade, and Gavin hides in the closet while Burnie pretends to do work. 

Gus storms into his office, muttering, “That little Eurotrash motherfucker. He’s not hiding in here, is he?”

“Hmm?” Burnie asks, pretending to be distracted. 

Gus’s eyes narrow, and he stares at Burnie for a moment. “You put him up to this, didn’t you.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Burnie says. His poker face almost lets them get away with it, but then a loud crash comes from the closet, and Gus yanks open the door to Gavin’s squealing, and, well. Not much else gets done that afternoon.

 

> _From: burnie@redvsblue.com_  
>  _To: gavinfree@googlemail.com_  
>  _Date: December 11, 2008_  
>  _Subject: ‘murica_
> 
> _Have some ideas about a miniseries between season 6 and 7. Think you can shoot it when you’re over here in Jan? We’ll pay you in free food and debauchery._

 

“Wow, this is—this is really good,” Burnie says, and Gavin ducks his head, but not before Burnie sees him smiling. “Play that again? How did you do that?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Gavin mumbles, clearly unused to the praise. 

“Gav, don’t sell yourself short—plenty of other people will be doing that for you. Take credit where it’s due,” and Gavin smiles again, quiet and genuine, still a little embarrassed. Gavin launches into an explanation of the mechanics of the shot, his thoughts behind the technique, and Burnie’s always been fascinated by how quickly he slides into technical mode, discarding the goofy, idiotic persona he puts on to reveal his weirdly calm, competent underbelly. Burnie shouldn’t be surprised at this point by how animated he gets, by how much attention and care he puts into the shots, but he still is. He tries not to dwell on how much he likes that Gavin doesn’t feel the need to put on a show now. 

During a pause in Gavin’s explanation, Burnie asks, “What do you think about directing next season?” Gavin turns to face him full on. 

“I—what?” 

“Don’t think I’m doing you any favors; directing’s a pain in the ass.” 

“I—yes, yes of course, that would be—that would be incredible.” 

“You say that now,” Burnie says, “but you’ll regret it soon enough.”

 

> _From: burnie@redvsblue.com_  
>  _To: gavinfree@googlemail.com_  
>  _Date: May 23, 2009_  
>  _Subject: ;)_
> 
> _Does July - Oct work for you? Email me your flight details._
> 
> _I know you don’t care about birthdays, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANYWAY YOU SCHLEMY DUFF MUFFIN. :)_

 

“I’d just like to say—” Gus starts while he and Burnie are driving to the airport to pick up Gavin.

“Oh, shut up,” Burnie says before he can finish.

“Like feeding a cat.” 

“Yeah, well, at least he’s very well-trained at this point.” 

“No thanks to you. You’re not the one who drilled discipline into him. Stop looking so smug.”

Burnie scoffs. “As if you did. And I do not look smug; I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

Burnie’s about to turn into the kitchen when he hears Brandon say, “Twenty bucks says that Gavin drunkenly makes out with him before the end of the summer.” 

Burnie blinks. He watches Brandon take his tupperware out of the microwave and wrinkle his nose, and he’s about to ask who they’re talking about when Jason swallows a bite of his sandwich and scoffs at Brandon. “Gavin’s the most emotionally repressed person I’ve ever met. Twenty bucks says that not only does he not make out with Burnie—and no, any potential makeouts in RT shorts don’t count, you can’t just write them in—”

“Aw, come on, man.”

“Yeah, boo hoo, I’m disqualifying cheating,” Jason continues, “Not only does he not make out with Burnie, but he hits on every hot girl he meets to overcompensate.” 

“Oh come on, you really think he’s that oblivious?”

“You’re new around here, so the mistake is understandable, but the rest of us have been watching this awkward dance for, what is it, three years now? It’s not gonna happen.” 

“Yeah, okay, I’m new, but it’s already obvious to me, and that’s saying something.” 

“Trust me, dude, there is a negative chance of Gavin making any sorts of moves. But hey, let’s shake on it—your loss.” 

Burnie clears his throat pointedly, and Brandon whips his head around and drops the tupperware. Jason doesn’t even have the decency to look mildly embarrassed, just gives Burnie a look he can’t interpret. 

“How’s the editing going, Brandon?” 

“Great!” Brandon says, voice cracking as he tries to mop up the bits of his lunch that have spilled onto the kitchen floor. “Um. How long have you been standing there?”

Burnie raises his eyebrows and stares the two of them down for a moment before walking away. 

 

“So I overheard the weirdest thing,” Burnie says, walking into Gus’s office. Gus is surrounded by an explosion of wires and cables; only his legs are visible from underneath the table. Geoff is perched on the desk, flipping through his phone and periodically handing Gus other bits of cables when his hand emerges. “Apparently, there’s a bet going around about Gavin and his,” Burnie makes a face, “crush on me? God, what a high school concept. Anyway. Ridiculous, right?” Geoff gives him a look. “What?”

“You can’t be serious,” Geoff says.

“I—what?”

“Gav’s crush on you can be seen from space. Or at least England,” Geoff clarifies. Burnie stares at him. 

“Excuse me?” Burnie says, after a pause. 

“Yeah, dude, he’s had the hots for you since, like, day one.”

“Even I knew that,” Gus says from underneath the table.

“Shut up, Gus,” Burnie says reflexively. “Day one—he was like, twelve,” Burnie continues, incredulity causing his voice to rise. “He’s still, like, twelve.”

“Twenty-one, actually. Way past the age of consent,” Geoff says. “Of course, I'd have to come at you with my shotgun, so don’t get any ideas. You already have a weird thing with him.”

“What? No I don’t. And I’m like—twice his age.”

“Yeah, there’s no accounting for taste,” Geoff concedes. 

Burnie eyes Geoff for a moment before saying, “Okay, ha ha, you got me, very funny; I’m going to walk out this door, pretend we didn’t have this conversation, then come back in, and we’re going to talk about the podcast for this week and you guys will be totally normal again and not like we’re in some weird alternate universe where you think certain people of a British persuasion may or may not like me.”

“A+ denial tactics,” Geoff says, squirting hand sanitizer into Gus’s outstretched palm.

“The _fuck_?” Gus says, then bangs his head against the underside of the desk and swears, and Geoff laughs so hard he almost falls off the desk. 

 

Burnie still thinks the guys are full of shit. Gavin had flirted shamelessly with the barista at the coffee shop down the street just last week, said, “Thanks, love,” after he rattled off his order, and he chats up girls whenever they go out to bars, smiles goofily at them and manages to charm them all the same, but as the weeks pass he notices that Gavin sometimes flushes when Burnie puts a casual hand on his shoulder, that he’ll trip over his words when Burnie looks at him or glance away quickly when Burnie catches him staring—stuff that he’d previously attributed to residual hero worship. 

Well, shit.

It’s not—Burnie shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. He remembers when he was twenty-one, young and desperate, trying to make an impression. 

 

“It’s your last week, Gavino; where do you want to eat?” Gus says, popping his head into the office. 

Burnie looks up at that. 

“Your last week? Already?” Burnie says. His voice sounds off; he tries clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I’m leaving next Friday, remember? You’re driving me to the airport.”

“Oh, yeah,” Burnie says. “That’s right.”

“If I overstay my visa because you forget—”

“Gavin, I’m not going to forget,” and Gavin gives him a skeptical look, but finally turns back to Gus. They trade dining options back and forth while Burnie stares at his computer, not really seeing what’s on the screen. 

 

“God, will you stop killing the marines, it’s disturbing,” Geoff mutters.

“They’re in the way,” Gavin protests. Burnie’s on the couch, watching them play through the level, trying to get to the right spot to film the next episode. They’re in crunch time, and Gavin had wanted to finish the episode before he left. 

“Do you want to move here?” Burnie blurts out, and Geoff turns around to stare incredulously at Burnie while Gavin freezes. Both their characters get blown up by a grenade on the screen. Gavin turns to look at him too, then, eyes wide.

“What?”

“To Austin. To work for us.”

“I—really?”

“No, I’m just asking for shits and giggles. Yes, you idiot, really.”

“Um, of course,” Gavin says, starting to smile, “Of course, that’d be incredible.” 

Geoff is still giving Burnie an unreadable look. 

“I could stay with Geoff,” Gavin says, elbowing Geoff in the ribs. 

Geoff loses the weird look and smiles at Gavin, saying, “What makes you think I’d let you live in my house.”

Gavin pouts. “Geoff,” he whines, “Please, Geoff, I promise I won’t gang up on you with Griffon anymore.”

“You’re such a lying little shit.” 

 

Geoff corners him in the conference room later that day. 

“Listen, Burnie. I love Gavin like he’s family. I want him to come work for us, too. But he has a life back in England.”

“He has a life here, too. He’s already here as much as his tourist visa allows, and it’s already a pain in the ass to get him over here for three months at a time. I can’t imagine he enjoys it.”

“Okay,” Geoff says, watching him carefully. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I just—I think maybe you haven’t thought this out as much as you should.”

“What’s there to think out? Everyone wants him to work for us, he wants to work for us, let’s do it already.” 

“If it’s that simple to you,” Geoff says. “If that’s all it is.”

“What else would it be?” Burnie asks, genuinely confused. Geoff sighs. 

“Nevermind,” he says. 

 

“Are you out of booze already?” Joel asks, rummaging through his liquor cabinet. “That’s pathetic, Burnie, I thought you were better at throwing parties than that.” 

Burnie rolls his eyes. “Everything’s in the kitchen, Joel,” he says, throwing a crumpled up napkin at him. 

“Oh,” Joel says, and wanders off. It’s the night before Gavin leaves for England; even Gus has made an appearance, and his house is in disarray. Burnie’s not looking forward to the clean-up tomorrow, but for now he’s going to relax and drink heavily and not think about anything remotely responsible. 

“Burnie!” Gavin slurs, weaving unsteadily towards the couch that Burnie’s planted himself on. “Burnie, my hero.” Burnie smiles up at him, and Gavin folds himself fluidly onto the couch next to him.

“Hi, Gav.” 

Gavin looks around the living room, at their friends in various states of drunkenness, and sighs happily. 

“Last time before it’s for real.”

“Yeah,” Burnie says. 

Gavin inches incrementally closer to Burnie in what he probably thinks is a subtle move, and probably would have pulled off if his inebriated state didn’t make him over-exaggerate his movements. He ends up with his entire side pressed up against Burnie, radiating heat, and Burnie should move away, should pretend that he’s getting another drink, or that he needs to go to the bathroom, but he’s pleasantly buzzed, about to tip over into full-blown drunk. Gavin’s comfortably settled next to him, and Burnie’s honestly a bit flattered, and all Burnie can think about is how pissed Brandon would be if he knew he was missing this. 

It’s a harmless crush.

The party winds down around one in the morning; most people have already left, and it’s just Geoff and Griffon leaning against each other on the floor while Gavin’s curled up on the couch. Burnie cleans up the beer bottles scattered around the room, and Geoff gets up and stretches. 

“Griffon and I are going to take the guest room?” Geoff says, and Burnie waves his hand at him. Geoff looks down at Gavin, grins and ruffles his hair, and Gavin grumbles and bats his hand away. 

Burnie grabs a spare pillow and blanket from the linen closet, leaves the pillow wedged between Gavin’s head and the sofa and drapes the blanket over him. Gavin sighs when Burnie carefully tucks the blanket closer around him, and his chest suddenly feels tight. He shakes off the feeling; Gavin will be back soon enough. 

 

He doesn’t see Gavin for over two years.

 

> _From: burnie@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _To: gavinfree@googlemail.com_  
>  _Date: January 29, 2010_  
>  _Subject: Re: details for importing_
> 
> _Here’s the lawyers’ info, go ahead and email them if you have any questions, but they should be in touch soon._

 

> _From: gavinfree@googlemail.com_  
>  _To: burnie@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _Date: March 4, 2010_  
>  _Subject: Re: details for importing_
> 
> _Thanks so much for getting Paul to write a recommendation letter for the visa, that’s top._

 

> _From: burnie@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _To: gavinfree@gmail.com_  
>  _Date: October 3, 2010_  
>  _Subject: Re: details for importing_
> 
> _Gav, I’m sorry, I talked to the lawyers, they think we’re losing momentum. I seriously think you should consider the slow mo thing, I think it would probably help._

 

> _From: gavinfree@gmail.com_  
>  _To: burnie@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _Date: May 15, 2011_  
>  _Subject: Re: details for importing_
> 
> _Think this counts as being mentioned in international media? https://au.tv.yahoo.com/sunrise/video/watch/9432855/the-slow-mo-guys/_

 

> _From: burnie@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _To: gavinfree@gmail.com_  
>  _Date: November 30, 2011_  
>  _Subject: Re: details for importing_
> 
> _Yes I’ll check the status of the visa petition you baby._
> 
> _Stop worrying._

 

> _From: gavin@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _To: burnie@roosterteeth.com_  
>  _Date: February 2, 2012_  
>  _Subject: Re: details for importing_
> 
> _Here’s the flight info. See you soon. :)_

 

Gavin waves at him when he catches sight of Burnie at the customs exit, eyes crinkling with how hard he’s smiling. He looks—real, Burnie thinks, like he hadn’t looked in all those Skype calls that they’ve had, in the photos that Gavin’s posted: tired, laughing, drunk, bored, living a life thousands of miles away. The knot that Burnie didn’t even realize was lodged in his chest loosens. Gavin walks up to him, but hesitates when Burnie gets closer, shuffling around a little, so Burnie pulls Gavin into hug.

“It’s good to see you, Gav,” Burnie says, arms still around him; the hug lasts longer than it probably should, but he hasn’t seen Gavin in so long, and he feels good, solid. 

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Like I was going to let you fend for yourself. I’m glad you got rid of that ridiculous hair cut.”

“I seem to recall you mentioning that you thought it was hot.”

“Yeah, shut up, you little punk. Come on, Barb’s in the car. Holy shit, did you pack bricks in this thing?” 

 

Burnie’s about to push the slightly ajar conference door open when he hears Barbara say, “Oh my god, you still have a thing for him, don’t you?” 

“I—can we not talk about this now,” Gavin hisses.

“If we don’t talk about this now, we’re never going to talk about it.” 

“Barb, he could walk in _at any minute_ , can we _please_ , for the love of—” 

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this, you’re the one who brought it up. You’re such a fucking liar, you told me you were over him, but it’s still so obvious—” 

Burnie realizes he’s clutching the door handle and lets go. He shouldn’t be listening to this. He should walk away. Go grab a cup of coffee and come back. Or he could just go in and pretend he hadn’t been lingering. 

“Still hot for the boss man,” Barbara says, and Gavin grits out, “I’m going to kill you,” and chucks a pen at her as Burnie walks into the conference room, trying to school his face into a neutral expression.

“You guys ready to film?” Burnie asks, and watches as Gavin turns bright red. “You okay?” 

“Yes. What? ‘s’nothing.” 

 

Burnie tries to put it out of his mind—they probably weren’t talking about him. And even if they were—it didn’t matter. Burnie has ignored it before. Gavin, however, has other ideas, and comes up to him when Burnie’s grabbing a snack in the kitchen before the podcast. 

“Listen,” Gavin says, voice low. “I don’t know what you heard, but it’s really nothing. Barbara’s talking out her arse.”

“Gav, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Gavin says, but he still looks uneasy. Unsettled. Burnie sighs. 

“Gavin, I’m—look, I’m not upset, I’m incredibly flattered, but you—you’re young, you’re going to meet people your own age, you’ll get over an old weirdo like me, and in a year we’ll be laughing about this.”

Gavin gives him a half-hearted smile at that. “Yeah,” he says. 

 

“Come on, Gavin, come out with us tonight! Anders always gives us free drinks when you’re there,” Kara needles. They’re milling around the podcast set before they go live in ten minutes; Gus is strangely nowhere to be found. 

“Can’t; I’ve got plans. What kind of name is Anders, anyway?” Gavin says.

“Gavin’s got a _date_ ,” Barbara teases, and Burnie looks up at that. 

“A date, huh?” Burnie says. 

“Yeah,” Gavin says, but doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“Well, that’s—that’s great.” 

Gus comes storming onto the set then, hair disheveled, screaming, “Gavin, I’m going to fucking _kill you_ ,” and Gavin squeals and volleys over the back of the sofa, yelling while he runs off set, and Barbara’s crying with laughter on the couch, and Burnie tries to get into the spirit of things, but he’s suddenly not in the mood. 

 

“So where are we with the short?” Burnie asks Barbara, and she starts to give him a rundown of the day’s shoot, but then Lindsay pops her head into his office and says, “Oh my god, Barb, did you hear about Gavin’s date last night?”

“Who was it with again? Carli with an i?”

“No, he totally bombed with her last week,” Lindsay says, “it was with that redhead from the bar—”

“The one with the—”

“Yep,” Lindsay says conspiratorially.

Chris peeks into Burnie’s office and says in a hushed voice, “Did you guys hear about Gavin’s date—” 

“Okay,” Burnie says, voice clipped, “I know that this may come as a shock to you all, but this is a place where work does, occasionally, get done, and it also so happens that this room is my office, not watercooler gossip central.” 

Barbara and Lindsay share a look. “Yep, yes, we’re going,” Lindsay says, ushering Chris out of the room. 

Barbara raises her eyebrow. 

“What?” he says.

“You love gossip,” Barbara says.

“Barb,” he says warningly.

“I’m just saying,” she says, then goes back to giving him the shoot rundown. 

 

Burnie had hoped he’d nipped the gossip about Gavin in the bud, at least in his presence, but he still gets an earful in the coming weeks, hears every last sordid detail, willingly or not. He tries to tune it out, and despairingly hopes for some drama, any drama that’ll stop him from hearing about which girls Gavin goes home with, which ones he makes an idiot of himself in front of, but as time goes on he notices that the teasing tone people used to have about Gavin’s dating spree is gone. He realizes that he only really sees Gavin when they pass each other in the office, only hears about the details of his life from other people. He can’t remember the last time he talked with Gavin about something other than deadlines, something other than work. 

Late one Tuesday morning, Kara knocks on his office door. 

“Hey,” Kara says quietly. “Burnie? Can you talk to Gavin? Some of us are kind of worried about him.”

“What’s going on?”

“Well, I mean, you know Gavin, he’s terrible with women, and he can be a huge asshole, but this is—” Kara hesitates. “I’m pretty sure Gavin has ascended to a new level of douchebaggery, and we think something’s wrong, but he won’t talk to us. Not even to Barb. He’s just been...sleeping with women and then ignoring them until they go away. I’m kind of afraid that they’re going to band together and stab him with pitchforks, which he would totally deserve, but for some reason I’m invested in his well-being.” 

Burnie rubs his face. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to him.”

“He’s been brushing us off, and you know he always listens to you.”

Burnie blinks. “He does?”

Kara gives him an unimpressed look and walks away. 

“Glad we had this chat,” Burnie says drily. 

 

Burnie drags his feet, but he knows it’s unavoidable, so he mentally braces himself and heads over to the Achievement Hunter office one afternoon a few days later when he knows that the guys will probably be editing. 

Gavin’s launching rubber bands at Michael; he watches Michael take a deep breath then pull his headphones off, and Burnie sees him open his mouth, probably to ream Gavin out, so Burnie clears his throat and says, “Gavin, can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” Gavin says casually, then flicks one last rubber band at Michael; luckily he misses. Michael angrily flips him off, then turns back to editing. 

They walk to Burnie’s office, but Joel’s on the couch, napping, so they end up in the equipment closet in the studio.

Gavin shifts around, clearly uncomfortable. Burnie bites the bullet and gets to the point. 

“Listen, what you do in your own time is your business, but I—people are worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Gavin says to his feet.

“Yeah?” Burnie says. “And what about the women that you’re going on dates with? Kara says you’re stringing them along and then dropping them. Seems kind of shitty.”

Gavin shuffles around. “Well, you know me, Burnie, I’m an equal opportunity arsehole.” Burnie blinks at the unexpected bitterness in Gavin’s voice. 

“Okay,” Burnie says slowly.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” 

“Gav, this might come as a shock to you, but there are people here who care about you, myself included, and this doesn’t seem—characteristic.” 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Burnie, but I’m a womanizing English prick.” It sounds off, like Gavin’s echoing something someone said to him. Gavin shrugs. “I’m just trying to live up to my reputation.” 

“You and I both know that’s not true.” 

“Yeah? And what would you know about that? I know you like to get over-involved in all of our lives, but I’m not a child, and you’re not my keeper.”

“I know I’m not—god, Gavin, why are you being such a—” Burnie huffs out a sigh. 

“Go on,” Gavin says, “say it.”

He’s trying to not let Gavin get under his skin, but it’s unfortunately one of his talents. “You’re being an asshole.” 

Gavin looks up then, pissed. “And what of it, then? What if I want to be an arsehole? What’s it to you, Burnie? Why do you care? You’ve made it very clear that you don’t—” Gavin cuts himself off, flushing. 

“I—” Burnie’s thrown for a moment.

“You know, you’re right; what I do in my own time is my own business, and you don’t get a bloody say.”

“Fucking hell, Gavin, would you stop being so—” It hits him that he does want a say, fuck, he does want it to be his business, the bottom of his stomach dropping with the realization. Before he has time to think about what he's doing, he's pushed Gavin flush against the wall, and he only gets a glimpse of Gavin's widening eyes before he’s leaning in and kissing him. It only lasts long enough for Gavin to make a surprised noise into his mouth and clutch his shoulders, and then Burnie pulls away, horrified at himself. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. That was incredibly inappropriate. I’m so sorry. Fuck.” He can’t bear to look up at Gavin, so he turns and walks away. 

His mind latches onto replaying Gavin’s wide-eyed shock over and over; he shakes his head and repeats to himself, _God, Burns, you’re so fucking stupid, you’re such a fucking idiot, what the fuck were you thinking, you’re so fucking stupid_ , so he doesn’t have to think about how badly he wanted it, how much he didn’t want to stop. 

 

He doesn’t remember the walk back to his office, but Joel’s still on the couch when he gets there. He immediately turns on his heels and heads for the tech office, and thank christ only Barbara’s in there when he stumbles in. 

“Barb,” Burnie says, and he must be less composed than he thought, because Barbara immediately closes the door behind him and says, “Burnie, what happened?”

“I—” Burnie sits down on an empty chair and buries his face in his hands. “God.”

Barbara sits down next to him. After a moment, she says, apprehension threaded through her voice, “Burnie, you’re really freaking me out. Please tell me what’s going on.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Really. I’m sorry. Forget it.”

“Burnie.” 

Burnie takes a shaky breath. “I—fuck. I kissed Gav. It was an accident. I wasn’t thinking.”

He forces himself to look up at Barbara; her eyes are wide. 

“Oh,” she says. 

Burnie scrubs his face.

“Was it good?” she asks curiously. 

“ _Jesus_ , Barbara.” 

“Listen, I thought you were dying or something. On a scale of one to holy fuckballs, this is maybe a three.”

“Well this is a big deal for me, okay?” Burnie says, voice cracking a little. 

“Sorry. Sorry. I have a lot of unexpected adrenaline pumping through my system, and you know I don’t always handle that well.”

They sit in silence for a minute. 

“Are you...going to do anything about it?” Barbara asks. 

“It really can’t happen again.” 

“But you want it to?”

“Fuck, Barb, it doesn’t matter. I’m fifteen years older than him, and on top of that, I’m his _boss_. It’s a fucked up power dynamic; it’s absurdly inappropriate.” 

“Maybe,” Barbara says evenly. “It certainly has the potential to be. But of all people, I don’t think you’d ever take advantage of Gavin, and shouldn’t you let Gavin be the judge of that anyway?” 

“No, it’s—there’s no way this works out well for either of us, and if it goes badly it could hurt the entire company. Plus he probably—he’s been seeing women.” 

Barbara raises her eyebrow. “For some definition of ‘seeing.’” She studies him for a moment. “It’s sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this.”

“No, there’s just enough stupid people in the world who’ve made this decision before that I don’t really have to think about it. Every way this could go wrong has already played out in real life before.”

“But you still want to, you know, make sweet, sweet love to him?”

“Ugh, Barbara, really?”

“Yep, answer the question.” 

“I—” Burnie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue, he thinks, ignoring the memory of how Gavin’s shoulders felt under his hands, the surprised breath he’d taken. 

“I didn’t think you were into dudes.”

“Yeah, I haven’t, um.” Burnie pauses. “Not since college.”

Barbara's eyebrows make an impressive creep for her hairline. “No shit.”

“It’s, I don’t know; I thought it was a phase.” 

“Wow, Burnie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this oblivious about yourself before.”

“Shut up. I’m in a delicate emotional state. Aren’t you supposed to be my moral support?” 

“We’re going to play it like that? Alright.” Barbara sits up, clasps her hands together in her lap, “Do you want to talk about your feelings? And the fact that you have the hots for your imported British twink?”

Burnie makes a face. “Ugh, no.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” They both sit there quietly for a moment; Burnie’s heart rate has dropped considerably, and the adrenaline has seemed to run its course. Mostly Burnie just wants to lie down. 

“So.” Burnie hesitates. “Thanks. And sorry.”

Barbara shrugs. “Hey, any moment spent trying to fix your shit is one more minute I don’t have to deal with mine.” 

 

Gavin’s nowhere to be found by the time Burnie’s left Barbara and Gus’s office, but he sees him early the next day, alone in the kitchen, carefully steeping tea. 

“Hey,” Burnie says to Gavin’s back, and he watches Gavin tense. “I, um. Wanted to apologize.” Gavin turns his head, but not fully, looking off to the side. 

“It’s fine, Burnie.” 

“No, Gavin, it really isn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’m really sorry, and it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Gavin says. 

“Okay,” Burnie echoes, watching Gavin move stiffly, still tense, and he quietly leaves. 

 

Burnie can’t quite meet Gavin’s eyes for the next week, is overly careful with him to the point where he’s getting looks from other people in the office. Gavin stops going out on dates, and Burnie’s—that’s fine. He’s not relieved. Or he is, but not because—he’s just glad that Gavin probably won’t get set on fire now. 

 

“And that’s it—see you guys next week. Or the week after, actually, since I’m going on vacation, assholes,” Geoff says into the camera, and reaches out to stop the recording. 

Burnie’s waiting on the Achievement Hunter couch for Geoff to wrap up so they can go to lunch. Gavin had carefully nodded his head at Burnie when he came in, then studiously ignored him the rest of the time.

“Alright, folks, since Jack is a putz and backed out because his girlfriend’s coming to town, I need someone else to pet sit Gavin while Griffon and I are in Hawai’i,” Geoff announces.

“I’m right here,” Gavin says, clicking away on his computer.

Geoff ignores him, looking around at everyone in the office, settling on Michael, and Michael raises his eyebrows. 

“You really think that’d be a good idea? No way. I already live with one troll.”

“Aw, thanks, babe.” Lindsay pecks him on the cheek.

Burnie clears his throat, about to suggest Barbara, but then he opens his mouth and says, “I’ll do it.”

Geoff and Gavin swing their heads to look at him, Gavin doing the best imitation of a deer in headlights that Burnie’s ever seen. 

Geoff narrows his eyes. 

“You okay with that, Gav?” Geoff asks, an edge to his voice, not looking away from Burnie. 

“Yeah.” Gavin clears his throat. “Yeah, that would be, um. Thanks, Burnie.”

“Yeah,” Burnie says, “Of course. Anytime.” 

 

They’re supposed to cover who’s going to be taking over for Geoff while he’s gone, but as soon as they’re done ordering food, Geoff confronts him. 

“I know something is up,” Geoff says. “I know something happened. Gavin won’t even talk to Griffon about it.”

“It’s—it’s nothing, Geoff.” 

“I know you’re lying, and I know Gav’s lying.”

Burnie sighs. “Look. We just—we had a fight, we’re over it now, it’s really fine, Geoff.”

Geoff studies him for a minute. “I know you’re full of shit.”

“You know, once upon a time you used to be on my side.”

“Yeah, well, this is all your fault, anyway. You’re the one who foisted him on me in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Burnie says, tiredly.

Geoff sighs. “Just—don’t do anything stupid. Griffon has her chainsaw ready to go.” 

 

It’s late when Burnie swings by the Achievement Hunter office to pick up Gavin the next day. He opens the door to Lindsay leaning in close to Gavin, saying something that Burnie can’t hear, and Burnie watches the tips of Gavin’s ears go red. 

Burnie clears his throat. “Ready to go?” he says, and Gavin leaps from his chair and grabs his duffel bag, says, “Yep!” in a slightly strangled voice. 

“What was that about?” Burnie asks as they walk to his car. 

“Nothing. Um. Nothing.”

They’re quiet the entire drive back to Burnie’s house. It’s awkward; Gavin usually runs his mouth non-stop, but instead he’s looking down at his phone, out the window, glancing at Burnie occasionally like he can’t help himself. Burnie opens his mouth half a dozen times to try and start a conversation, but it never feels right. They grab takeout on the way, and Gavin shuffles his feet uncertainly when they get home. 

“Uh, the guest room’s all set, if you want to put your stuff there.” 

“Thanks,” Gavin says. He turns to head towards the bedroom, then pauses and turns back to face Burnie.

“Look,” Gavin says, “I don’t want things to be awkward. I can behave myself.”

“Gavin—”

“I’m just saying—you don’t need to worry about me, alright?” 

_It’s not you I’m worried about_ , Burnie thinks, and says, “I’m sorry, Gav, I know I’ve been weird, let’s—let’s just start over. Want to watch MythBusters while we eat?” and Gavin grins, the first smile that Burnie’s seen directed at him off-camera in—weeks, maybe. 

_Don’t do anything stupid_ , Burnie thinks. 

 

Burnie walks into the kitchen the next morning, faintly alarmed by the smell of burning emanating from the room. 

“Please tell me you’re not trying to destroy my kitchen,” Burnie says dryly, and Gavin twitches and looks up from poking gingerly at a sad pile of burnt something on the stove. Burnie shoos him away and makes him clean up the mess while he whips up some omelets, and it’s—nice. Gavin politely thanks him for breakfast, and it’s all very friendly and undramatic, because they’re friends and coworkers and that’s what friends do. Never let it be said that Burnie doesn’t have some mean compartmentalizing skills.

It sets the tone for the rest of the week, and they develop something of a routine. Burnie’s never lived with someone who was also a morning person—it’s surprisingly nice, and he’s caught off guard by how much he missed having someone to cook for regularly again. He tries not to get comfortable, tells himself it’s temporary, that he shouldn’t get used to it. Puts Gavin into a box marked “Off-limits, platonic, terrible life decision” and mostly keeps to it. He gets nervous when the weekend hits, but Barbara picks Gavin up on Friday night to go out drinking with Miles and Blaine, and Burnie has to go into the office for most of Saturday anyway. 

_One more day_ , Burnie thinks late Monday evening, and it’s not even really a full day—Geoff’s going to be in the office tomorrow, and Gavin will be going home with him, and Burnie can get on with his life and repress the hell out of everything. Maybe he’ll even try and go on a date. 

He and Gavin argue over meaningless things over dinner, getting more heated as they get tipsier. 

“It was definitely Felicia Day in Firefly,” Burnie insists. 

“What? You’re a loon, it definitely wasn’t Felicia Day.”

“Okay, then, who was it?”

“I can’t remember her name, but I can guarantee you that you, sir, are 100% incorrect.”

“Fine, okay, I propose a friendly wager: if I’m right, you have to do all the dishes.” Gavin starts smirking, so Burnie tacks on, “And pay me $200.” 

“And if I’m right, we have to watch Cowboys and Aliens,” Gavin counters, and Burnie says, “Alright,” before he can think better of it. He looks it up on his laptop, and groans, and Gavin grins triumphantly. 

“They’re both redheads, okay, it’s an understandable mistake.”

“Nevertheless,” Gavin says, smugly, and Burnie sighs and rents the movie on his Xbox.

“That was _terrible_ ,” Burnie says afterwards. “I can’t believe you made me watch that entire thing.”

“I’m not the one who lost the bet,” Gavin says lazily. 

“You hated it as much as I did!” Burnie says, indignant, and Gavin laughs into his beer. Burnie shakes his head, then grabs the empty bottles and brings them to the kitchen, tossing them in the recycling bin. He grabs two more beers from the fridge, idly wondering if Gavin will be up for a round of Left 4 Dead 2, and wanders back into the living room. 

Gavin’s sprawled out on the couch, dicking around on his phone. His shirt is riding up, only a little bit, but enough to show a sliver of skin, more tanned than he’d expect, and all the mental blocks Burnie had set up for himself disintegrate. Burnie can’t help but wonder what Gavin would do if Burnie slipped his hands under the fabric, pushed his shirt all the way up, pressed him down into the couch. If he’d be quiet, like he mentioned once on the podcast. He looks up, and Gavin’s watching him, expression unreadable, and Burnie clears his throat and says, “I’m, I’m gonna go to bed.”

 

Burnie wakes up in fits and starts, groggy, has to force his way to consciousness. He remembers last night and resists the urge to groan into his pillow. 

No matter how much he tries to pretend that everything’s normal, there’s an awkwardness again, like the first day. They both reach for the cereal box on the countertop in the morning; Burnie jerks his hand away, knocking over a cup—empty, thankfully. 

“Sorry,” Gavin says, looking down. 

“No, I’m—” Burnie sighs. They don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the morning; Burnie’s waiting for Gavin by the front hall, and Gavin comes out of the guest bedroom with his duffel. 

“Ready to go?” Burnie asks quietly, and Gavin nods, grabbing his jacket from the coat closet but not putting it on, and Burnie has an out-of-body moment, where he’s watching himself watching Gavin, and he just, he has to— 

“Wait,” Burnie croaks out, and Gavin pauses with one hand on the doorknob, and then Burnie says, “Gav,” and Gavin turns around. Burnie takes a breath, then another one, but it doesn’t help; he feels like he’s drowning. “Gavin,” he says and takes a step towards him and Gavin drops his jacket and duffel and Burnie pushes Gavin against the front door, manages to get out, “Can I—?” and Gavin nods jerkily, so Burnie leans down and kisses him, and Gavin clutches his shoulders like before, but this time Burnie doesn’t stop. 

Gavin’s fisting the back of his hoodie by the time Burnie breaks away, and Burnie asks, voice low, “Have you done this before?”

Gavin swallows. “Um. There were a few guys in England?” And that’s good, it’s good that Gavin has had some experience, that this isn’t his first— 

Burnie pulls off his hoodie to give himself something to kneel on, and looks up at Gavin. Gavin looks uncertain, a little rattled, so he puts his hands on Gavin’s sides and slowly rubs them up and down. 

“Is this okay?” he asks softly. Gavin nods. “Are you sure? We can stop.” Burnie pulls away a little, but Gavin grabs his t-shirt and shakes his head. 

“Please,” is the only thing he says. He puts his hands unsteadily on Burnie’s shoulders as Burnie undoes his jeans, pulls them down carefully with his boxers. 

Burnie mouths at his cock, and he can feel Gavin’s legs shake under his hands. It turns out he is quiet, Burnie discovers, doesn’t make a sound as Burnie swallows him down, but Burnie can feel his fingers biting into his shoulder, Gavin’s breath getting unsteady and shallow. 

He feels like he’s drunk, head swimming, dizzy and borderline delirious; he wants it to last and he wants to drive Gavin _crazy_ , but Burnie’s going to be late for a meeting that he can’t actually miss, so he speeds up, unrelenting, presses a finger against the skin behind Gavin’s balls, and Gavin shakes and shakes, breath loud in his ears. 

“Burnie,” Gavin whispers harshly, and Burnie thinks Gavin’s trying to warn him, feels Gavin pushing him away. Burnie ignores it, moves to press his thumbs into the hollows of Gavin’s hips on his next slide down and hold him still, and Gavin chokes out a, “Christ,” and comes down Burnie’s throat. He sags against the door, and Burnie pulls off and rests his forehead against Gavin’s hip, trying to calm down, breathe evenly, ignore how turned on he is. 

“We should,” Burnie clears his throat. “We should get to work.”

“But—” Gavin says, looking down at Burnie’s dick very clearly tenting his pants. 

“It’s fine. Let’s go.” 

“But I—”

“It’s okay; we’re going to be late otherwise.”

Gavin hesitates. “I’m just going to get cleaned up?”

“Yeah,” Burnie says, and when he hears the door to the entry hall bathroom close, he thumps his head against the front door. 

 

“That can’t happen again,” Burnie says when they’re in the car on the way to work. Burnie can feel Gavin looking at him. 

“Why not?” 

“Gav, it’s, do you understand how inappropriate it would be? How inappropriate this already is? People could talk, I could abuse my power over you, shit could go down that would affect not only our relationship but the entire company. It’s—word would get around, it could ruin your reputation, it’s just, it’s not a good idea.”

Gavin’s silent for a moment.

“It—we don’t have to tell anyone.”

“That’s really not—”

“It’s—I wouldn’t mind,” Gavin says, looking out the passenger window. They’re stopped at a light, and Burnie needs to say no, needs to do the right thing. 

“Gavin—” 

“Can’t we at least try it? You want it too, right, it’s not just—” Gavin cuts himself off, fingers tapping nervously on his knee. 

Burnie tightens his hands on the steering wheel. God, this is a terrible idea. “No,” Burnie says slowly, quietly. “No, it’s not just you.” 

 

They have an office party the next day; the company’s rented out a bar downtown. Burnie likes to have one once a month, to boost morale, to have people mingle who usually don’t. He normally loves these things, getting to talk to people he doesn’t directly work with, and he tries to be glad for the distraction, but he and Gavin still haven’t really talked, and he’s antsy, restless, unsure. 

Gavin sways drunkenly with Barbara on the dance floor. She laughs and sways with him. Emily, the new hire in accounting, sits down next to Burnie at the bar and sips a vibrantly-colored drink.

“You know, you guys are the weirdest people I’ve ever worked with,” Emily says.

Burnie raises an eyebrow.

She turns and sees his expression, then hastily says, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Mr. Burns,” earnestness coloring her voice.

“Don’t worry, as far as insulting things that have been said about me and my company, that’s not even a blip on my radar. And please, call me Burnie; Mr. Burns makes me sound...sinister.” 

“Burnie,” she says, and smiles.

“So tell me,” Burnie says, “I think you mentioned that your mom owned a corgi rescue?” and Emily brightens and talks animatedly about the dog she just adopted and the puppies she gets to visit every week. 

Several drinks later, Emily asks, “Is he dating anyone?”

“What’s that?” 

Emily nods towards the dance floor. “Gavin. Is he dating anyone?”

“Um. No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Hm. Do you mind if I—?” She tilts her head, and Burnie waves his hand and watches her slide off her stool to go join Barbara and Gavin, and even without being able to hear them, he can see Gavin turn on the charm, angling his body towards her and smiling easily, casually flirting. 

Burnie downs the rest of his beer, and catches a cab home. 

 

He’s just closing his laptop and about to get off the couch and head to bed when the doorbell rings.

“Why’d you leave?” Gavin asks lowly, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back onto his heels.

“I was tired,” Burnie lies, and shrugs, “I didn’t want to interrupt you; you seemed like you were having a good time.” 

“Were you—were you jealous?” Gavin asks slowly, incredulous.

“No.” Burnie can’t quite keep the defensiveness out of his voice. He expects Gavin to rub it in, to tease him about it, but instead Gavin just watches him carefully.

“Can I come in?” he asks after a moment. Burnie steps aside, opens the door wider. Gavin waits for him to lock the deadbolt before he leans in close, tentative, and Burnie sighs and kisses him. It’s still thrilling, still new, and Burnie feels a curl of guilt in the hollow of his chest from how much he wants it. 

 

It’s—Burnie tries not to think about it, because it’s tortuous and wonderful and dangerously addictive. He’s on edge all the time, wondering if people can tell that Gavin’s laugh around him is giddier, if they notice when Burnie finds himself staring at Gavin’s hands during meetings, the curve of his neck, his bare hip when his shirt rides up. He doesn’t let himself touch Gavin in the office, but when they get to Burnie’s house, he immediately presses Gavin against the door, the wall, any available surface. He feels greedy, like he’s taking too much, but Gavin never stops him, seems to welcome it. 

 

Burnie looks up from his laptop screen to Geoff leaning against his doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Lunch?” Geoff asks, overly casual, and Burnie sighs and says, “Sure.”

“Listen, if this is about Gavin,” Burnie says wearily when they get seated at the restaurant. 

“Fuck Gavin,” Geoff says abruptly, and Burnie looks at him in surprise. “I love Gav, Gav is family, but that’s not why I wanted to talk.” Geoff smooths out his menu. “We’re worried about you.”

“We?” 

“Yeah, we being Gus and I, because Joel is too oblivious and Matt is too hands-off, but you know how much Gus hates talking about feelings.”

“Yeah,” Burnie says. “You’re worried about me?”

“Yeah, dipshit.”

“Why?” Geoff raises both his eyebrows and stares at him for a moment. 

“Really?” he says, incredulity causing him to over-enunciate. 

“I’m—I’m fine.” 

“Listen, Burnie.” Geoff unfolds his napkin on the table. “You know, you were right—Gav is family, but you were there first. I’ve known you for a long fucking time. I’ve dealt with your bullshit for over ten years. Cut the crap. You’re not okay.” 

Burnie pushes his glasses up with his hand and rubs his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Yeah, well, surprise, no one does. Congratulations on being human.” 

“I know what I need to do, I just—” 

“Burnie—” Geoff sighs. “I know I give you a lot of shit, and I know that I’ve been skeptical about this whole situation, but. Sometimes you just gotta say, ‘Fuck everyone else,’ and do what makes you happy.” 

“I’m not sure I know what that is.”

Geoff shrugs. “You’ll figure it out.”

 

“Hey, sorry it took so long to send you the timecards—I’ve always been terrible about it, ask Yvonne,” Burnie says, looking for an excuse to drop by Emily’s office. 

“You know I can’t go easy on you just because you’re CEO.” 

“Yeah,” Burnie says, forcing out a laugh. “Hey, so, how’d it go with Gav at the party?” he asks, shooting for nonchalant. If he misses, Emily doesn’t give any outward indication. 

Emily quirks her mouth. “It was fine until I went to grab another drink, and then he was gone. Does he do that a lot?”

“Yeah, Gav is a little...absent-minded. Well, you know, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him again?”

“You think?” Emily asks, tilting her head, considering. 

 

“Did you tell Emily to ask me out?” Gavin demands, storming into his office and shutting the door—not quite slamming it, but with enough force that it slightly rattles the picture frames on the walls. 

Burnie shuts his laptop and looks up at him, gaze steady.

“And if I did?” Burnie asks evenly.

“I thought we sorted this out,” Gavin says. “I thought you were okay with trying—” 

“You should be with someone like her.”

“Someone like—what does that even mean?”

“Someone who’s on equal footing with you. Someone you don’t have to hide your relationship with. ”

“Relationship?” Gavin barks out a laugh, humorless. “Is that what this is?”

Burnie feels a pang of guilt. “That’s, that’s just what I mean, this isn’t—” Burnie fists clench against his legs, and he steels himself. “This isn’t working, I—Gavin, I can’t do this anymore.”

Gavin opens his mouth but nothing comes out. It clicks shut after a moment. He looks down at the floor. 

“What are you saying?” he finally asks, slowly. 

“We tried it, and it’s not working,” Burnie repeats. Gavin rubs his left arm with his right hand. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, unsteady. 

“Was it, was it something I did? Did I—I’m sorry, I thought I was hiding it alright, I thought—” 

“I don’t _want_ you to be good at hiding this,” Burnie says angrily, voice cracking. “That’s the whole—this is fucked up, Gav, this is unsustainable.” 

“But you—you want me.” Gavin’s looking at him again. It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Burnie says, like it’s torn out of him. 

“Then—why—”

“I can’t live with myself,” Burnie says hoarsely, and Gavin drops his head, defeat written into the line of his body.

 

Gavin calls in sick the next day, and Burnie feels the familiar rise of guilt, rides it out and shoves it down and goes about his day. It still comes to him at unexpected moments, when he’s grabbing more printer paper from the supply closet, when he sees Barbara’s concerned frown at her phone, when he notices Gavin’s mug upside down in the dish rack. Gavin’s never called out sick before.

He’s back the next day, quiet and diminished, and Burnie doesn’t realize how tense he is until Lindsay says, “You look like you’re in a permanent state of constipation,” and he doesn’t have a quick comeback for her. 

It’s his own fault that things are this way, that things are this broken, and he was trying not to fuck it up but he did anyway. 

 

Barbara barges into his office a week later, closes the door behind her and locks it, and promptly declares, “Okay, this is intervention time.”

“Barb—” 

“Gavin looks like someone’s died. You’re obviously miserable.”

Burnie’s mouth twists. “We’ll get over it.” 

“Why do you _need_ to get over it? I don’t understand why you’re—” Barbara marches up to his desk, arms over her chest. “Do you know how happy Gavin was? He was over the fucking moon. And now—” 

“Stop,” Burnie says.

“—you’re both walking around, all sad and pathetic, and for what?” 

“Barb, stop.”

“This is stupid. And you know it.”

“Barbara, _enough_ ,” Burnie snaps, anger flaring.

“ _No_ ,” Barbara cuts back. “You’re my boss, true, but he’s my best friend. He’s my best friend, and I care about him, and I know you do too. What the fuck, Burnie?”

The anger drains out of him, as quickly as it came. “I’m just trying to look out for him,” he says finally. 

“Well, you’re doing a hell of a job. Do you know how much this is going to set him back? How much he struggled with this in the first place?”

Burnie blinks in surprise, feels his heart plummet. “What?” he says. 

Barbara flushes. “I—it’s not my story to tell, but—I know you think you’re protecting him, or saving him, or whatever, but this is the worst possible thing you could have done to him.”

“I, Barb,” he says helplessly, “it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I _can’t_.” She looks at him for a long moment and sighs. 

 

Barbara wants to throw Gavin a birthday party, and god help him, but his house is the best one suited for it, so he reluctantly agrees when Barbara asks him, saying flatly, “If this is an attempt to set us up again,” and Barbara interrupts him with, “Not everything is about you, Burnie.”

Kara finds him in the kitchen, quietly trying to get shit-faced as quickly as possible. 

“Have you seen Gavin?” she asks him, “Barb’s been looking for him.”

“No,” Burnie says, “sorry,” cutting himself off before he says that she should just look anywhere he’s not, considering the way Gavin has been avoiding him all night. 

Burnie doesn’t go looking for him, heads to the bathroom to give himself a moment, but on his way back to the party he notices the door to the study open. Gavin’s leaning against Burnie’s desk, sipping a beer, looking at the photos Burnie has on his bookshelves. 

“Barb’s looking for you,” Burnie says carefully. Gavin quirks his mouth in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, fingers drumming against the table.

“I know that—I know we can’t really do anything, but can we just, for a second, pretend that—” Gavin cuts himself off. 

“Gav,” Burnie says helplessly. 

“I just want a minute. Can I just get—?” Gavin puts his beer down, turns to face Burnie. Burnie meets his eyes for a second, looks down. 

“It’s my birthday. Please,” Gavin continues quietly, and Burnie doesn’t really think it through, just walks up to Gavin and slides one hand around his jaw, ignoring the voice in his head that’s repeating, _This is a terrible idea. What the fuck are you doing. You need to walk away. This is a terrible idea._

It starts out chaste enough, and Burnie’s about to pull away and sigh in relief, but then Gavin parts his mouth, and it’s—Burnie inhales sharply, doesn’t mean to deepen the kiss, doesn’t mean to slide his hands around Gavin’s waist, doesn’t mean to push him more firmly against the desk. God, he missed this. Gavin gasps into his mouth, and Burnie breaks the kiss, breath unsteady. 

“You should get back out there. Everyone’s going to wonder where you are,” Burnie says roughly. 

Gavin swallows and looks away. “Yeah, alright,” he says. Burnie belatedly realizes that he’s pushed up the edges of Gavin’s shirt and is sliding his thumbs slowly back and forth across the skin above the waistband of Gavin's jeans, and abruptly drops his hands, steps back. Gavin carefully maneuvers around him and heads out into the hallway. 

Burnie scrubs his face with one hand and says, “Fuck.” 

 

Because Burnie is nothing if not a masochist, he sometimes thinks about the morning after Gavin had slept over for the first time. Even though they’re both early risers, Burnie had woken up first, warm and content. Gavin was curled up on his side, mouth slightly open, looking vulnerable and young. Burnie knew that he wasn’t supposed to have this, but god, he wanted it so much. 

Maybe under different circumstances— 

But he’s not that much of a masochist. 

 

It hits Burnie, late in June when the weather is miserable and hot: PAX is in two months and he’s supposed to be going with Gavin.

“Shit,” he says to himself. 

He pokes his head into the Achievement Hunter office; it’s just Gavin and Lindsay, headphones on, editing. Gavin looks up when he opens the door, and his expression is so blank that Burnie looks away.

“Mind if we go talk in the conference room?” he asks, and Gavin gets up wordlessly. 

Gavin crosses his arms immediately once they enter the room, doesn’t look at him. Burnie closes the door behind him and leans back on it. 

“I know you were supposed to come with me to PAX, but I think—given the circumstances—” Gavin looks up at that, pissed. 

“Alright, that’s it, stop it, Burnie. This is ridiculous. You didn’t want this affecting the job—well guess what. It’s affecting the job. It’s affecting me. It’s affecting the company.”

Burnie takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I was going to say, you can go with Gus, I can—I’ll do Comic Con.” 

“That’s stupid, you bloody hate Comic Con. You always go to PAX.” 

“You shouldn’t be the one to suffer because of my poor decisions,” Burnie says, low.

“First of all, neither one of us needs to suffer, because we should both be able to go and it shouldn’t be a bloody problem. Stop sacrificing what you think you shouldn’t have just because—I’m a goddamn adult. I’m not a child. I’m capable of dealing with some awkwardness. I’ll get over it. Stop trying to, to protect my feelings or whatever the hell it is you think you’re doing.” 

“Gavin—”

“No, shut up, everything we’ve done so far has been on your terms, and yeah, I know what we had before wasn’t working, but neither is this. Now it’s my turn, so just shut up—”

“Okay.” Burnie doesn’t think he can handle this conversation, but he owes Gavin that much. 

“—and before you say anything—um.” Gavin blinks. “‘Okay’? ‘Okay’, what?"

Burnie takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ve—I didn’t give you a chance to say anything. I’m sorry. I’m—” _a coward_. “Um. Go ahead.” 

“Okay,” Gavin says. He runs his fingers through his hair, clears his throat. Looks Burnie straight in the eye. “If you didn’t want to do this, if it were just me—wanting—” he glances away briefly, “obviously I wouldn’t be thrilled, but I’d be able to deal with it. What I _can’t_ deal with is that you _do_ want this, and you unilaterally made this decision for me anyway. I know you said you couldn’t live with yourself, but there wasn’t even a _discussion_ , you just assumed—you know, you’re not taking advantage of me. You’re not destroying my future or my career. You’re not besmirching my reputation. And even if you were—contrary to popular belief, I am actually a grown human adult who’s capable of thinking for myself. It would be _my decision too_. If people are shitty to me because of what I choose to do with my personal life, I can _handle_ it. You don’t need to bear the burden of people being pisspots on the internet. You own a bloody internet media company; you should know better than anyone that people are going to be pisspots regardless of what we do.”

“Gavin, I would never forgive myself if—you know, for as far as we’ve come we still live in a backwards world, and people would talk, not just people on the internet, but people you need to network with, people who could further your career—people who say they’re okay with it, but have the power to really fuck up your life—”

“News flash, Burnie, _none of that is your responsibility_.”

“It is if it’s because of _me_.” 

“Jesus fucking christ, Burnie, you’re not _inflicting_ yourself on me! I’m my own person, I get to make my own sodding choices. No one else can do that for me, not even you. You know, everyone thought I was mental—my family, my friends, for wanting to come here, for wanting to work for this company no one had heard of instead of staying in England and doing big budget movies and meeting famous people. And I never told you because I knew you were already feeling guilty about asking me to come over, what with everyone telling you that you were pressuring me, convincing you that I felt obligated, but screw them and screw you. I've never been happier in my life. I don’t regret a single thing. Even if nothing had happened between us, even if we hadn’t—I don’t regret my decision. But this is beyond rubbish, you do want to be with me, you’ve just decided that it’s not good for me, and you’re trying to protect me or whatever. I don’t know about you, but this isn’t just some fling for me—I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been, for years, I’ve been in—I care about you, you prick.” 

Burnie’s chest hurts; he wills himself not to have a heart attack.

“Gav—” 

“So tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you don’t want this. Let’s actually have a bloody dialogue about it. If you don’t, fine, I promise I won’t bring this up again. This is the last time I’m going to ask; I’m not a masochist. But don’t torture the both of us because of your misguided protective instincts.”

“Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.” He swallows, braces himself. “I don’t—I don’t think we—” Burnie starts to say, but he can’t finish. He can lie to himself all he wants, and he should lie to Gavin, too; nothing’s changed, this is still a terrible idea, this still puts Gavin in a terrible position. 

“God, you are the most infuriating little shit,” he says instead, voice hoarse. Gavin quirks his mouth.

“Alright, then,” Gavin says, as if it were settled, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. 

“Gavin—” 

“Are we doing this?” he interrupts. 

_Don’t fuck this up again, Burns_ , he thinks, and croaks out, “Yes. Okay. Yes,” and Gavin looks so relieved that Burnie wants to pull him close and say he’s sorry for being an asshole, and nothing’s actually stopping him, so he catches hold of Gavin’s hand and pulls him into a tight hug and says, “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry,” and Gavin swallows and says, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Arsehole.” 

He doesn’t want to pull away, now that they’re finally here, but it’s still the middle of the work day, and Barbara will kill him if he doesn’t call the vendors for RTX. But when he goes to disentangle himself, Gavin fists the back of his shirt and says quietly, “I don’t think I can go through that again. You have to mean it this time.” 

“I mean it,” Burnie says into Gavin’s hair, and Gavin exhales, and Burnie’s insides feel scraped raw and his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. 

 

Burnie’s in the kitchen, tiredly brewing a pot of coffee after most everyone has left—“I’m still mad at you,” Gavin had said before he went home with Geoff, and, well, Burnie doesn’t blame him. He sticks around for a few more hours since he hadn’t gotten much done, all things considered, and he needs to finish sending some emails, work on some scripts. Gus finds him absently dumping too much creamer into his mug. Burnie looks up, says, “Hey,” and Gus’s eyes narrow. 

“Something’s different about you. I can’t quite place it,” Gus says, tapping a finger on his chin. “No, wait, I’ve got it—you don’t look like someone’s shot your puppy anymore.” 

Burnie sighs. “Yeah, yeah, get it all out.”

“Did you finally pull your head out of your ass, Burns? Will wonders never cease.” 

“Hey, that’s—okay, that’s fair.”

“Oh come on, it’s no fun if you don’t fight back.”

“Nerd.”

Gus raises an eyebrow. “Ouch. What a zinger,” he says, deadpan. He pours some coffee into his empty mug, stirs several packets of sugar into it, then says, “Remember once upon a time when you said, ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’”

“Really, you’re going to bring that up? That was like, six years ago,” Burnie says. “And, I mean, yes, okay, I fucked up, it got pretty bad there, but I think it turned out okay.”

“Yeah,” Gus says after a moment. “Yeah, it did. Okay, I’m going to be sentimental this once, and only once, but I’m glad you two got your shit together.”

“Yeah,” Burnie says quietly. “Me too.”

 

He’s surprised when, later that night, the doorbell rings and Gavin’s standing on his doorstep, his backpack slung over one shoulder. 

“I’m still mad at you,” Gavin says, then drops the backpack and steps up into Burnie’s space, slides his arms around his neck and kisses him. Burnie inhales and wraps his arms around Gavin’s waist, and they stand there on Burnie’s front stoop until Joe starts pawing at his leg and meowing hungrily. 

Burnie pulls away and looks down and says, “Goddamnit, Joe, I didn’t rescue you to be a cockblocker,” and Gavin laughs, leans down and scoops Joe up, bringing him into the house and leaving Burnie to roll his eyes and grab Gavin’s backpack. 

“This isn’t going to be all sunshine and puppies,” Burnie says quietly into the back of Gavin’s neck, later when they’re lying in bed, Burnie’s arm curled around his side, hand on his chest. “Things might be difficult and shitty for a while.”

“Mm,” Gavin says sleepily. “That’s okay. I trust you. Now let me sleep, you prick.” 

 

“Oh, shit,” Burnie mutters to himself when he remembers that he has to pick up the sound equipment for tomorrow’s shoot before six because he has terrible minions and James the intern is bedridden with the flu, so he quietly lets himself into the Achievement Hunter office.

“Burnie!” Gavin says, even though Burnie’s not trying to attract attention to himself, hanging back by the doorway. Gavin comes over, and Geoff says, “Ladies and gentleman, Burnie Burns, our fearless leader, deigning to visit us here in the Achievement Hunter office.” Burnie waves at the phone Lindsay’s using to film, then turns to Gavin while the rest of the guys get back to screaming into their mics as Ryan and Ray face off. 

“I forgot about an errand I have to run; can Geoff drop you off later?” Burnie says, keeping his voice low as Michael shoots Ray with a nerf gun. 

“Yeah, I think we’ll need another hour or two before we wrap up anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon then,” Burnie says; then, without even thinking, he leans in to give Gavin a brief kiss goodbye. He immediately regrets it when Gavin stiffens, and when he pulls away, Gavin’s face is reddening and he’s looking down at the floor. None of the other guys are paying attention, but Lindsay still has the phone pointed in their general direction and a shit-eating grin on her face. 

Burnie sighs. “Alright, well, have fun.”

He’s sitting on the couch later, writing emails and half paying attention to the game that’s on in the background when he hears Gavin unlocking the front door. Gavin lingers in the doorway to the living room for a moment before walking over to Burnie; Burnie sets his laptop on the coffee table and says, “Hey Gav, I just wanted to apologize for—” He trails off when Gavin comes right up to him, slides the coffee table away from the couch with his leg, and kneels. “Um—” he continues intelligently, because he wasn’t exactly sure how things would go when Gavin came home, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this. 

Gavin undoes Burnie’s belt, his pants, and at this point it’s pretty unmistakable what Gavin’s intentions are. Gavin’s never tried this before. “Are you sure about this?” Burnie says, voice an octave too high. 

Gavin, the little shit, tilts his head mockingly, pretending to think and slowly rubbing Burnie’s thighs with his hands. Burnie didn’t think he could get hard that fast anymore; it leaves him more than a little lightheaded. 

“Yup,” Gavin says, and then unceremoniously tugs his pants and boxers down, sucks on his cockhead, and oh, _fucking_ , fuck.

He never goes too deep, but consequently spends a _lot_ of his focus on the head of Burnie’s cock, and Burnie clutches the couch arm and swears and tries to breathe through how intense it is, and Burnie had always imagined that if Gavin ever wanted to do this there would be a lot more of Burnie guiding Gavin through it instead of Burnie clenching his teeth and intently trying not to lose it while watching Gavin get more and more blissed out. 

“Stop,” Burnie chokes out, and Gavin pulls off, dazed, and says, “What?”

“I’m—” and he throws his head back as he gets a hand around his dick, the slickness of his cockhead making him bite back a moan, and he’s already past the edge, _christ_ , and comes almost immediately.

Burnie manages to summon up enough energy to pull Gavin into his lap, and he barely gets Gavin’s jeans unbuttoned and a hand on his dick before Gavin’s shaking, already keyed up. 

“Fuck,” Burnie says softly, as Gavin comes all over his hand. He tips Gavin next to him while he clumsily cleans both of them up; Gavin resolutely doesn’t help, nuzzling into his side, leaning up to kiss his neck.

Burnie rearranges them into a more comfortable position, then says, “What was that about?”

“Does it have to be about anything?” Gavin mumbles into his neck. 

“I mean, no, but remember what we talked about.” Gavin buries his face deeper into Burnie’s neck and the back of the sofa. “Using your words.”

“I liked what you did earlier. Um. In the office.”

“Yeah?” Burnie says. “I actually wanted to apologize about that. I was kind of on autopilot.”

“No, um, it was just unexpected, but I—I liked it, I don’t mind if you, if there are other people around. Everyone already knows anyway.” Gavin’s squirming a little now, clearly uncomfortable, and Burnie rubs soothingly at the back of his neck.

“Okay, okay, we can stop talking about it.” 

 

Geoff confronts him the next day.

“You know I’m actually very happy for the two of you, mazel tov, et cetera, but I am banning you from ever coming to the Achievement Hunter office while Gavin’s filming.”

“Um—”

“I don’t know what you said or did, and frankly would be much happier if you never told me, but he was beyond useless after you left.”

Burnie winces. “Sorry?”

Geoff narrows his eyes at Burnie.

“Um. I won’t do it again?”

“Why are you being so reasonable about this?” 

“Hey, I’m always reasonable,” Burnie says, indignant. Geoff peers at him for a moment before making a disgusted face.

“Ugh, it’s a sex thing, isn’t it. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

 

The podcast starts in ten minutes, which is of course when Burnie starts getting a flurry of tweets and texts with a link to the Behind the Scenes that Lindsay had shot. With him and Gavin. Kissing. In the background.

“Goddamnit, Lindsay,” he mutters under his breath. They hadn’t made any concerted effort to hide their relationship, and he hadn’t told anyone to keep it a secret, but he’d been enjoying the peace and quiet. 

Buried among all the notifications is a text from Lindsay.

 **Lindsay ‘The Tugginator’ Jones** 1m ago  
Before you say anything Gavin said it was okay  
slide to reply

Burnie slides into his seat with ten seconds to spare, resolutely refusing to meet anyone’s eye. 

“And welcome to the podcast,” Gus says, “Today we have Gus, Burnie, Barbara, Burnie’s imported British twink—” 

Gavin slides down in his seat as Burnie facepalms. 

“—and Gus.” 

“Right out of the gate,” Burnie says, shooting Gus a betrayed look. Gus shrugs, unconcerned.

“Might as well address it, it’s all that’s going to be in the hashtag anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know, we could maybe talk about PAX. Or the Resident Evil movie. Literally anything else. Please.”

“Hey, if we talk about it now, it won’t be the elephant in the room, and we can all move on with our lives.”

“Do I get any say in this?” Gavin mutters. Everyone ignores him. 

“To be fair,” Barbara says, “Gus is right, it was all that was in the hashtag from before the podcast even started. 

“Et tu, Brute?” Burnie mutters. Barbara shrugs and sips her beer. 

“God, fine,” Burnie huffs out, the turns to look straight at his camera. “Okay look, yes: dear internet, I am having sex with Gavin Free. It’s a thing that’s happening. It’s old news, it’s been happening for like, months now; let’s move on.”

The feed cuts to Gavin beet red and pulling a pillow up to his face to hide it. Barbara tries to pull it away, and says into the camera, “It’s okay, internet, I’ll give you all the juicy details when I get my book deal—Burnie and Gavin: The Ten-Year Transatlantic Love Story.”

“I hate all of you so much,” Gavin says, voice still muffled by the pillow. 

“Into the microphone, Gavin,” Gus admonishes. 

“I’m going to go drown myself now, cheers,” Gavin says.

“Okay, internet, are you appeased now? Are you not entertained?” Gus says, shaking his fists above his head. “If not—too bad, we’re moving on, we’ve already dedicated way too much time to this.” 

“Have we, though?” Barbara says.

Gus gives the camera a look. “Yes. Now let me read this.”

Burnie looks over at Gavin as Gus is doing the ad read, and mouths, “You okay?” Gavin nods, and quirks his mouth. 

 

Afterwards, Burnie corners Gavin in the empty control room and wordlessly shows Gavin Lindsay’s text.

Gavin flushes. 

“You knew it was going to be brought up on the podcast.”

“Maybe,” Gavin mumbles, “what of it?” 

“You could have said something.”

“I didn’t, um, really put much thought into it.”

“Some warning would've been nice, you know.”

“Sorry,” Gavin says, and to his credit, he does look moderately contrite. “Are you mad?”

Burnie sighs. “No, just give me a heads up the next time you do something as drastic as outing our relationship to the world.” 

“I could make it up to you with, um. Sex things,” Gavin says, flushing while trying to bat his eyelashes at Burnie.

“Mhmm. How about you just do all the dishes after dinner. Also your seduction techniques and sexy talk could use some work.”

Gavin huffs. “You’re no fun.” 

“Don’t make me put you on bathroom cleaning duty.”

Gavin pouts, and Burnie relents and reels him in, cups the back of his neck and kisses him, and Burnie thinks, _I can do this anywhere now_ , and he can’t help the thrill of warmth that spreads throughout his chest.


End file.
